


Pacifus

by WeirdEmmaline (DeliaDestruction)



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: AU, Gen, I have no plan for it, M/M, Multi, Other, SO, Sith AU, captured Jedi, eventual quiobi, eventual torture porn, it's whatever they want, just be warned, non-con WILL involve Obi-Wan, not what I want, poor qui-gon, poor quiqui, qui-gon is a sith au, those last two tags might be lies, underage could be terrible, underage does not involve Obi-Wan, underage doesn't go far, underage is not horribly graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:51:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8106502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeliaDestruction/pseuds/WeirdEmmaline
Summary: Qui-Gon Jinn is almost seventeen years old when he and Master Dooku go on a mission to Bandomeer to aid in a union dispute. While there, he runs into a former friend, a young man who had been an Initiate with him. Upon completion of their mission, Dooku allows Qui-Gon some time alone to catch up with this former friend.Little does Dooku know, this is the last time he will see Qui-Gon Jinn for over twenty-five years. Kidnapped, cut off from the Force, raped and beaten, Qui-Gon will do anything in order to hopefully save not only his life but his sanity.Eventual QuiObi, eventual PacifAsh, eventual basically everybody dies.





	1. Before

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic that will cover roughly thirty-five years of Qui-Gon Jinn (later Lord Pacifus)’s life, including some eventual QuiObi. I apologize for my poor characterization re: Dooku and Palps/Sidious, certain canon-y things had to be changed in order for my dear sweet Paci’s story to work at all. Plus I’ve just not ever been all that good at writing them, tbh. But I’m trying. Sort of. Most of this is pretty canon-divergent, anyway. I mean, it’s a Sith AU involving Qui-Gon. But I hope I’ll at least do them justice over the course of this fic.   
> Updates are going to be slow, but I WILL be finishing this fic (and the other ones I’ve got started, promise.)  
> I dedicate this fic to Gryps, because without her Pacifus would hardly be half the character he is today.

Qui-Gon felt his chest swell with pride as his Master spoke to the Council about his heroics on their recent mission. He was just two weeks shy of his seventeenth birthday and in just his first year of intensive one-on-one training with his Master he’d grown by leaps and bounds. Physically, emotionally, and with the Force. He was stronger than he’d ever imagined he could be as still a very young man, and he cut an imposing figure beside his Master.

Together, Qui-Gon Jinn was certain that he and Master Dooku were capable of handling any situation that the galaxy or the Force might throw at them.

Unfortunately, Qui-Gon was wrong.

From that particular meeting with the Council, the Master and Padawan were off to the municipal spaceport to leave on another mission, the Padawan walking slightly behind the Master and carrying both of their bags. It was grunt work that many Masters didn’t force upon their Padawans, but Qui-Gon didn’t complain. Truthfully, he didn’t mind. He knew that he had his Master’s respect, even if he was treated like a glorified pack mule at times.

“Where are we off to this time, Master?” he asked as they approached the ship that would take them away from Coruscant. He’d been paying attention in the council chamber, _really_ he had, but he could swear they hadn’t mentioned where they would be going, not even once.

Of course, there _was_ always a chance that his mind had been wandering.

Dooku’s pace faltered, but only slightly. Only another Jedi would notice. Qui-Gon, of course, noticed, and immediately felt like a fool. _Clearly_ he had missed something important. _Such shame._

“Think, Qui-Gon. It will come to you.” His Master’s tone was cold, but not harsh. It was a tone that Qui-Gon hadn’t heard in a long while, but to which he was well accustomed.

“Yes, Master,” he said, sighing softly and looking to the ground. If he cleared his mind, perhaps it _would_ come to him.

He stayed behind Dooku as they boarded the ship and took their seats. _Good_ , he thought. _If I can meditate, I can revisit the meeting in my mind and figure out where we’re kriffing going._

As the ship took off, both he and Dooku relaxed and slipped into a light meditative trance. Qui-Gon liked it when they meditated together. Meditating with his Master was like breathing. It was comfortable, familiar. Calming.

“Bandomeer,” Dooku murmured, his voice barely audible. Qui-Gon’s eyes snapped open. _We can’t really be—_ he thought. “We’re on our way to Bandomeer.”

The teenager remained silent, but he drew himself out of the meditative state before he was ready. Looking at Dooku, he found himself feeling even more ashamed than he had when Dooku had not-so-subtly alerted him that he’d missed vital information in the meeting with the Council. He was a Jedi, or at least he was training to be one.

Jedi didn’t fear certain planets because of their reputations. Jedi did their job and didn’t complain. Didn’t shrink back in fear. Didn’t take their own preferences into account when it came to what they had to do.

So why did the idea of going to Bandomeer fill Qui-Gon with such dread?

 

It would be many hours before Dooku would return to full consciousness, and when he did he found that Qui-Gon had fallen asleep curled around their bags. He couldn’t help but smile at the comical sight of his lanky Padawan trying so hard to make himself small.

He yawned and stretched before standing and heading for the galley. There were only a few other scattered passengers in the general seating area where the Jedi had seated themselves, but every cabin on board was full. It was serving as a good exercise in humility for his Padawan, but Dooku wished the Temple could have made alternate travel arrangements for them.

The galley was cleaner than the rest of the ship that Dooku had observed thus far, which wasn’t saying much. They’d chosen the least stained seats they could find, but that wasn’t saying much, either. He wasn’t sure whether they should trust the food served there, but he knew they wouldn’t find much to their liking once they reached Bandomeer. Best to get something in their bellies now.

When he returned with a tray of food for Qui-Gon and himself, he found that the teenager had shifted from his seat to the floor and was now sleeping with his ass up in the air and his nose pressed firmly into the carpet. Their bags were still clutched tightly to his belly. Dooku sighed. That boy could sleep through anything.

“Qui. Qui-Gon, wake up.” At first, Qui-Gon simply continued to quietly snore, blissfully unaware that he’d even fallen from where he’d been sitting. “ _Qui-Gon._ ”

A slightly pained grunt emitted from the young man’s chest as he was jolted from his slumber by his Master’s condescension. “M- Master?” he murmured, slowly lifting his face. Dooku’s lip curled in disgust as he looked down at his Padawan. There was a rather large amount of dried blood covering his mouth and nose, which was bent at a strange angle.

“Qui-Gon, how did you manage to sleep through breaking your nose?” he demanded with an impatient sigh. “This is utterly ridiculous.”

“I- unh…” The teenager slowly got to his knees, then his feet. “I’m not entirely certain, Master. I’m sorry, Master.”

“What are you apologizing to me for?” Dooku asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the one who has to deal with a broken nose now. Go clean yourself up. I have a meal for us. I figure it’s best if we eat now before we arrive.”

Qui-Gon nodded and hurried off to the fresher. Dooku sighed heavily as he sat down, waiting for his Padawan to return. With a little help from the Force, Qui-Gon managed to straighten his nose more or less before returning to his seat.

“One of these days that ability of yours to sleep in any position like that is going to _really_ end up hurting you, Qui,” Dooku said as he handed a plate of food to the teenager. Qui-Gon nodded and looked at the floor.

“I know,” he said. “I’m trying to be better about not falling asleep like that, but…” Dooku sighed and rolled his eyes, a slight smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

“I can’t exactly fault you for falling asleep, Qui-Gon,” Dooku said, pushing the food around his plate. The food available on board was decidedly unappetizing. “Once we’re on Bandomeer, we’re going to be quite busy. It’s probably good to get your sleep now.”

The teenager gave a reserved but dopey grin as he looked back up at his Master. It was moments like this that made him glad that it was Dooku that had chosen him. They were more alike than his Master liked to admit, although Qui-Gon found he had no reservations when it came to the food he was served. In fact, he found it difficult not to scarf down what he’d been given even now as he processed the shame and embarrassment he felt at how he’d woken up.

* * *

 

Qui-Gon jerked awake as the ship lurched and shifted, signaling that it was preparing to land. He found himself wondering just how many more flights that particular ship would be able to make before it would require some rather serious maintenance.

He also found himself wondering whether the pilot had ever landed a ship before as he found himself face-to-floor once more. Sharp pain radiated from his nose outward, and he knew that he’d broken it again. Or was it further?

As he stood up and brushed himself off, he heard a rare sound. It was one that he wasn’t entirely used to hearing yet. It wasn’t often that he heard his Master laughing, after all. It was a subtle noise, likely not picked up by any of the other passengers in the little seating area, but Qui-Gon heard it.

“All the grace of a bantha,” said the Master. Qui-Gon grinned. “I can’t wait for the rest of your body to catch up with how fast your legs have been growing.” A pause. “I can’t imagine I’m as eager for that day as your nose is, however.”

That was it. Qui-Gon doubled over laughing, very nearly pitching forward again as the ship finally landed with the exact same amount of grace that the Padawan had shown thus far. It was then that Dooku stood. Slender fingers worked to set right his cloak as he watched his Padawan mimic his actions. Somehow, Dooku knew that there would come a time that he would miss moments like this.

He never thought it would be so soon.

Qui-Gon was grateful that his Master wasn’t expecting very much of him so far. After they disembarked, the teenager followed his Master dutifully, carrying their bags and keeping his head down. He knew they were there to aid in some manner of peace talks. That was almost always what their missions involved, after all.

_Eyes down, ears open,_ his Master’s words echoed in his mind as he listened to a miner plead with them to Do Something.

“That is what we are here to do, Aaji. To help. Tomorrow, when negotiations start, Qui-Gon and I will ensure that you have a safe space to voice your concerns and demands.”

“Anfernon won’t listen, you fool!” the miner, Aaji, replied, stepping out in front of Dooku and forcing both Jedi to stop short. Her violet eyes blazed with a passionate fire the likes of which Qui-Gon had never seen before as she glared at his Master. He quickly averted his gaze, waiting for his Master to reply. Dooku met her gaze, unblinking, and waited for her to move. She did not.

“It is not the Jedi’s place to interfere. We are merely peacekeepers, Aaji. We are not here to force anyone’s hand.”

“Then what kriffin’ good are you?” Aaji demanded. “What’s the point of having you here at all?”

“Would you prefer it if we took our leave?” Dooku asked, raising an eyebrow. Qui-Gon’s brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to make sense of why his Master would so willingly abandon their mission.

Aaji sighed heavily, throwing up her arms in a gesture of hopelessness. Qui-Gon felt a pang of sadness for her situation. For the miners’ situation in general. He knew that theirs was a particularly hopeless one. It could have been his fate, to rot on Bandomeer.

Not a particularly likely fate, he knew, but still possible nonetheless. He’d always been among the more gifted of his peers, having managed to form a deeper connection with the Living Force than any of them. Than any Jedi, arguably, than those on the High Council. No, Qui-Gon had never really had reason to fear that he’d be sent to a planet like Bandomeer, forced off the path to becoming a Jedi, abandoned by the closest thing he’d ever really had to an actual family… But three of the Initiates that he’d counted as his friends _had_.

Aaji escorted them to a small apartment that was to serve as their quarters for the duration of their stay, scowling at them the whole way but keeping silent now that Dooku had made his intentions clear. Qui-Gon couldn’t help but feel for her. He wanted to help her. He didn’t even know what her situation was, but he knew that it was dire if she was so insistent to the Jedi that they do something to help.

“If you need anything, well…” Aaji said as she gestured into the small space the Jedi were to share. “Maybe Anfernon will take pity and offer you a reasonable loan rate since you’re Jedi.” She chuckled darkly as she pushed past them and wandered down the long, dimly lit corridor.


	2. Savior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Qui-Gon. This chapter hosts the first of the underage scenes in this story. It doesn’t get terribly graphic, but it is a little graphic.

Day three of extremely hostile negotiations was just winding down when Qui-Gon noticed a familiar presence in the Force. It was one that he had not felt in many, many years, but it was as familiar to him as his Master’s. He cocked his head, confused. He was almost _certain_ that Li-Am had been sent to Malastare, not Bandomeer.

 _No matter_ , he thought, shaking his head slightly as he turned his attention back to what Anfernon was saying. Anfernon was not what the Jedi had been expecting. Upon entering the conference room that first day, the Jedi had been met with a short, squat man with an abundance of thick blond hair that fell just below his shoulders. His skin was a dark brown with deep blue stripes along his neck and arms. Neither Jedi could tell for sure if the blue was tattooed or natural. He had a deep, booming voice that seemed out of place coming from his disproportionately small mouth, and yellow eyes that glowed even in the brightly-lit conference room.

Now, Anfernon was going on about the virtues of hard work and keeping one’s mouth shut. Qui-Gon thought he sounded rather like the Masters on the High Council. _I wonder what would happen if the Knights decided to strike? The Code is so much older and harder to follow than the laws Anfernon’s set forth for his workers._

As he sat and forced himself to pay attention, that strangely familiar Force-signature drew closer and closer. It was most certainly Li-Am. Qui-Gon’s heart soared as he realized that this could be a chance for him to see one of his closest friends once more. _Will he even recognize me? It’s been so long since we’ve last seen each other,_ he wondered.

The meeting ended and all in the room stood. Master Dooku moved to speak to Anfernon and one of the union leaders, leaving Qui-Gon near where they’d been sitting, surrounded by miners that had no interest in him. Qui-Gon watched his Master as he spoke, silently studying the way that he dealt with the other man. He wanted to be as much like his Master as possible, seeking to emulate him in any manner that he could manage.

As he watched his Master, the door to the conference room opened and that all-too-familiar Force-signature came close enough that Qui-Gon could no longer merely sense it. There he was, Li-Am, the boy that Qui-Gon had spent nearly all of his free time with as an Initiate. Though he had the hardened, muscular body of one who had been subject to years of hard labor, his face was still that of the soft, sweet boy Qui-Gon had known.

And from the way his face lit up upon seeing Qui-Gon, it was safe to say that Li-Am recognized him as well.

“Don’t tell me you flamed out, too, Chirps,” he exclaimed as he approached, holding his arms open. Qui-Gon hesitated only a moment, glancing worriedly over at his Master, before throwing his arms around his friend and hugging him tightly. “What the kriff brings you to Bandomeer?”

Qui-Gon nodded in Dooku’s direction. “I’m on a mission with my Master,” he said. “We’re facilitating the talks between the mining union and Anfernon.”

The brilliant smile that had lit up Li-Am’s face faded noticeably at that news. “You’re- You’re still with the Jedi, then?”

Qui-Gon nodded. “Master Dooku chose me shortly after you aged out of the program. I haven’t left his side since.”

“I see. Well, in any case, it’s good to see you again. I thought for sure that the Force was lying to me when I sensed you nearby.” He flashed a forced smile at Qui-Gon. “I never pegged _you_ as an actual _Jedi_ , Chirps. It’s a trip to see you all dressed up like a Knight.”

Qui-Gon shook his head, laughing and grinning. “Oh, please,” he said, smoothing back his hair as he looked back over at his friend. “I look _nothing_ like a Knight. Barely an apprentice.”

“Yeah, under Master Dooku. By the time you’re twenty, you’ll be a Knight. Don’t even try to deny it.”

“Qui-Gon.” Master Dooku’s voice boomed through the room, silencing the boy as he opened his mouth to reply. “Come. Now.”

The teenager cringed, nodded slightly, and sighed. “Yes, M- Master.” He glanced over at Li-Am sadly before hurrying over to his Master’s side. He tried to ignore the strange feeling in the pit of his stomach as he neared Anfernon.

As Qui-Gon approached, Dooku crossed his arms over his chest, glaring crossly at him. Across their Force-bond, he could feel the question more than he could hear it, _is this how you think a Jedi ought act? Decorum._

 _I’m sorry, Master. I meant no disrespect._ Qui-Gon bowed slightly to Anfernon and his Master.

“Y- Yes, Master?”

“I would like you to escort Anfernon back to his ship, Qui-Gon. Once he is safely aboard, meet me in the mess hall.”

“Yes, Master. As you wish.” He turned his attention to Anfernon. “My lord?”

Anfernon turned his gaze to the lanky sixteen-year-old boy who towered over him and grinned deviously. “Ah, Dooku, I shall try not to keep your boy too long. Come, Quee-Gon, my ship is this way.” Before Qui-Gon could correct the man’s pronunciation of his name or protest, Anfernon took him by the arm and was physically dragging him out of the room. Dooku chuckled quietly as Qui-Gon looked back over his shoulder at his Master for help.

Surely his Master wouldn’t send him off into a truly potentially dangerous situation alone.

“How long have you been coupled with Master Dooku?” Anfernon asked once they were out in the main corridor. Qui-Gon noticed, much to his dismay, that the other man had slowed down significantly once they were away from the conference room. That weird feeling in the pit of his stomach was growing ever stronger with every step they took.

 _I am a Jedi, the Force will keep me safe,_ he reassured himself as he walked with the man. “Almost four years now,” he replied after a moment, willing his voice not to shake.

“He hardly seems old enough to be training someone your age, Quee-Gon. You are already a man!”

“Not- Not quite yet,” he replied. “I’m only sixteen.”

“Oh, but on my planet you would already be married,” Anfernon replied, his eyes flashing mischievously as he released Qui-Gon’s arm and instead moved his grip to the boy’s waist, pulling him flush against his own body with such suddenness that the boy nearly lost his balance. “In fact, on my planet you would likely have both a husband _and_ a wife, you delicious boy.”

“ _Let me go_ ,” Qui-Gon demanded, his voice a low growl. His words were dripping with the Force as he tried in vain to shove the short, squat toad of a man away from him. He was much stronger than he looked. “ _Let me go!”_

“Oh, come now. Your Master gave you to me for the evening. You’re not expected back until I am satisfied, Quee-Gon. Do you want me to tell your Master that you were unwilling to do all that is asked of you?”

“My Master told me to escort you back to your ship. That’s _all_. It is improper for a Jedi to even _consider-_

It was then that Anfernon smashed his mouth against Qui-Gon’s, effectively shutting the young man up even as he continued to struggle. They were maybe halfway to Anfernon’s ship now, and the Jedi was quickly finding himself completely overpowered by this little toad of a man. Neither he nor his Master had sensed any amount of Force-sensitivity in him, and yet he was restraining Qui-Gon with ease.

“Come now, little Jedi,” Anfernon purred when finally he pulled away for a moment to allow the boy to breathe. “Your Master would be disappointed in you, struggling against me with such force. I am a _very_ powerful man, Quee-Gon. I can pay any price you may ask, but I _will_ have what I want, whether you are willing or not.”

Qui-Gon tried to pull away from Anfernon, tried desperately to shove him away both with the Force and with his arms and legs, but he could only manage to earn a little bit of wiggle room as the short man began to drag him along toward his ship.

“The more you struggle, the more painful this will be for you,” Anfernon informed him.

“Let me go!” Qui-Gon begged, thrashing wildly. The desperation in his voice made the older man laugh. “Please, a Jedi cannot-ˮ

A wave of horrible pain washed over him then and his words were stolen from him. Every cell in his body felt as though it was on fire. He weakly called out to his Master through their bond, but he was almost certain it would not be enough. All he could properly focus on was the pain. He knew that Anfernon was moving quickly with him twitching and seizing in his arms, and he assumed that Anfernon was using some manner of Force technique on him that he simply hadn’t heard of before, but neither of those things mattered. The pain was all that mattered.

 _I’m going to die. This is when I die. I’ll be one with the Force soon._ The pain tapered off and Qui-Gon took a deep, shaky breath, fighting the urge to vomit.

“Please,” he begged, his voice a shaky, breathless whisper. Anfernon simply laughed as he threw Qui-Gon across what appeared to be a bed.

If he wasn’t fighting back fear (and the urge to vomit once more), Qui-Gon might’ve been intrigued by the plush bedding. Not intrigued enough to particularly want to bed this man, but intrigued nonetheless. Although he loved his position with the Jedi, he also loved comfort and luxury. He was thrilled when Dooku would acquiesce to his quiet, yet persistent, pleading for even a slight upgrade in their sleeping or space-travel arrangements on longer missions, but it didn’t happen very often.

“Please don’t do this,” he cried, struggling as he felt a smooth, thin cord being wound tightly around his wrists, binding them uncomfortably behind his back. His movements felt clumsy and slow after the pain he’d suffered on the way there. “What did you do to me?”

“Nothing that will permanently harm you, rest assured, dear little Jedi.” Anfernon was incredibly gentle as he loosened the Padawan’s belt, letting it fall between the boy’s stomach and the bed as he eased his pants down. “So lean and muscular, I’m surprised your Master Dooku hasn’t taken you himself!”

“You are disgusting!” Qui-Gon cried, struggling to hide himself to no avail. The more he pressed himself into the mattress, the more his body began to react just how he didn’t want it to. The more he struggled, the harder Anfernon pressed him down into the mattress, forcibly spreading his ass with one hand while pressing firmly down on the small of his back with the other. “Let me go!”

“Oh come now, you’ll be begging me for more _long_ before we’re through.”

Qui-Gon felt a strange, sharp pain at his hole and he cried out, struggling harder than he had been before. The pain coupled with the not-entirely-unpleasant discomfort of how his half-hardened member was being forced awkwardly against the mattress and pillows beneath him was quickly clouding his mind. _Focus_ , he scolded himself. _Panicking isn’t going to help you._ “You’ll go to jail.”

“Try again,” Anfernon replied, sounding bored. Qui-Gon gasped as something cold and wet made contact with his hole. “It won’t work, of course, but do try again. Your attempts at getting out of this are so very amusing.”

“The Jedi will never be willing to assist in talks involving you again!”

Anfernon chuckled darkly. “My dear sweet Quee-Gon. You cannot possibly think that you are the first I’ve brought kicking and screaming to my bed?” Qui-Gon shuddered as the man spread the strange cold liquid along his crack with two long fingers. “You’re truly overreacting, Quee-Gon. You will find soon that I am actually a very gentle, giving lover.”

“I don’t want any of this!” the boy cried, squirming as he felt strange pressure at his hole, coupled with a strange, pinching discomfort that verged close to pain. “Let me go!”

He felt the familiar-yet-strange sensation of being touched by the Force and he heard Anfernon laugh. “No, you don’t want this _at all_. That’s why you’re already as hard as a rock, little Quee-Gon.”

“ _Stop!_ ” Qui-Gon begged. His cries fell on deaf ears, however, as he felt a long finger breach him.

“Relax,” purred Anfernon. Qui-Gon couldn’t relax. What kind of stupid advice was that? _Relax and allow yourself to be violated_ , he thought as he continued to struggle, a strange tinge of anger coloring his thoughts. _How could Master Dooku allow this to happen to me?_

“Please don’t do this.”

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

Something hard and heavy hit the hatch, startling both Anfernon and the teen he was molesting.

 _Bang. Bang. Bang._ The noise echoed loudly through the ship. _Bang. Bang. **Crash.**_

“Someone is in my ship!” Anfernon exclaimed. For a moment longer, he held Qui-Gon down before deeming it more important to protect his keep from the intruders. “Those blasted miners… Well, you can’t exactly go anywhere, anyway.”

He shoved Qui-Gon down into the mattress, hard, and climbed across him before getting out of the bed and leaving the room.

Qui-Gon scrambled to pull himself onto his knees, but his movements were still so clumsy and slow. It took him longer than he cared to admit to realize that Anfernon was likely still manipulating him with the Force. _How did someone such as Anfernon become so strong in the Force,_ he wondered as he forced himself out of the bed. His pants fell to his ankles, tripping him as he tried to take a step. He landed painfully on the floor, face down.


	3. Unspeakable Loss

“Please, no more, I beg of you,” Qui-Gon begged as he heard the door open again. “Please.”

“Chirps- Oh, Force- Okay, okay just h- hold on. I’m going to get you out of here, okay?” The Jedi bristled, confused.

“L- Li-Am?” he asked, feeling his face grow hot. _Of all the compromising positions for him to find me in_ , he thought as he felt his friend’s hands working to untie his bindings. “Oh, thank the Force. I thought he was--ˮ

“There’s no time, Chirps. My diversion won’t last forever. I’ve got to get you out of here.”

Li-Am let out a string of curse words in a language that Qui-Gon didn’t recognize before letting the Jedi’s arms fall rather painfully against his back. “Pfassk. He’s tied it too tightly. I’ll have to cut you free when I get you out of here.”

He dragged Qui-Gon to his feet and unceremoniously yanked his pants back up, fastening his belt sloppily as they lurched toward the door.

“He di- did something to me, Li-Am,” Qui-Gon stammered as they made their way toward the hatch. “I can hardly move.”

“It’ll wear off soon enough, don’t worry. C’mon, we’re almost there.”

“And _where_ exactly do you think _you’re_ going? In your condition, little Quee-Gon, you are not going to get very far.”

“He did as his Master ordered him, Anfernon,” Li-Am sneered, putting his body between Qui-Gon and the business mogul. “I am escorting him back now. He owes you nothing more.”

“This does not concern you, 88923-a. You’re lucky I’ve not killed you for intruding on my private space!”

“I’m not a number. Not anymore. I’ve paid my debt, every cent of it. And now I’m going to take my friend and leave.”

Quite suddenly, Qui-Gon felt that horrible pain ripple through him once more. A horrible scream wrenched its way out of his throat as Li-Am all but threw him out of the hatch. The pain only intensified as he hit the landing platform and rolled along. He flailed numbly as he tried to push himself to his feet, but he couldn’t find his balance. His vision came and went as he rolled and flailed, dislocating both of his shoulders.

Strong hands took him by the waist and pulled him to his feet, dragging him forward. He didn’t know whether to fight or give up. He didn’t know if he even _could_ keep fighting. Qui-Gon felt as though at any moment he could lose consciousness. If it was Anfernon that had him, he _hoped_ he would lose consciousness. He didn’t want to be awake when _that_ happened.

He heard someone speaking to him, but he didn’t know what they were saying. He couldn’t focus on anything but the pain that coursed through his body.

As he tried to find his voice to beg for death, he felt himself slipping beneath the dark, icy waters of unconsciousness.

 

When finally Qui-Gon woke again, he found himself enveloped in darkness. The first thing he noticed was that his arms were no longer bound. The second was that he was still fully clothed. He breathed a sigh of relief as he realized that this meant he had likely made it back to the space he was sharing with his Master. Or at least to Li-Am’s quarters.

Closing his eyes, he reached out tentatively with the Force and probed the darkness. He furrowed his brow in confusion as he realized how... strange… the Force felt to him then. His connection to it felt so _weak_ , weaker than it even had when he’d been trying to fight off Anfernon’s advances. Worse than that, he felt incredibly clumsy with it, as though he’d only just begun to learn how to use it.

Although even that didn’t quite feel right, because even in his earliest memories, as a very small child, he had taken to the Force with grace and ease. This did not feel right.

“Hello?” he called, and his confusion only deepened as he realized how utterly _small_ he sounded. He couldn’t recall ever hearing himself sound so small and weak before. He wasn’t even certain that he’d be able to hold himself up if he managed to get to his hands and knees.

Although Qui-Gon knew it was quite a massive risk to call out for help, knowing full well that this could all be some kind of trick by Anfernon, he knew he wasn’t going to get very far on his own. He might very well have to accept Anfernon’s proposition if only to ensure that he got out of there afterwards.

“Hello?” he called again, trying to force his voice to sound louder and stronger than it really was. He wasn’t sure it would fool anyone.

“You’re finally awake, are you?” Li-Am called from the next room. Qui-Gon breathed a sigh of relief. He _had_ been rescued successfully. “Good, ‘cause there’s no way I can lug you all the way back to your quarters _and_ explain to your Master what happened. I don’t think Master Dooku would take too kindly to a former Initiate dragging home an apparently inebriated Padawan. Especially since he never seemed to like me very much.”

Li-Am stepped into the doorway, leaning casually on the doorframe. He rested one hand on his hip as he looked his friend over. “How are you feeling?”

There was a tone of seriousness to the question that hadn’t been present in the rest of what Li-Am had said. Qui-Gon didn’t want to meet his eyes as he answered.

“Weak,” he said after a moment. “Clumsy. Like I’ve been poisoned.”

“You’re not too far from the truth there.”

“What did he do to me?”

Li-Am shrugged. “None of us really know what it is, but we’ve seen him bring some pretty powerful Force-sensitives to their knees.”

“Didn’t he hit you with it, too?”

Again, Li-Am shrugged. “I’ve kinda gotten used to it. I can’t tune it out, but I’ve built up quite the tolerance for pain, living here. Life away from the Jedi isn’t all that great, Chirps. You’re really one of the lucky ones, even if your Master was willing to sell you off like a bantha to slaughter with Anfernon.”

Qui-Gon shuddered. He’d come so very close to having something incredibly unpleasant happen to him. And his Master had to have known. The things that Anfernon had said when he’d been taunting him…

“Once you’re up for it, I’ll bring you back to your Master. It’s been… almost a day now, I suppose? He’s probably concerned by now.”

“A whole day? I was out _that long_?”

“Well, when I first got you back here I thought you might be _dead_ , Chirps. He got you with that kriffing pain nonsense pretty hard, and he got you with it more than once. If he’d managed to get you from me, you’d probably be dead at this point. He was angrier than I’ve seen him since these ‘peace’ talks were first brought to his attention, and he doesn’t exactly value human lives. Or any other race, for that matter.”

Qui-Gon shuddered again and tried to pull himself up so he was at least sitting up. His muscles screamed at him as he tried to make his arms hold up even the smallest amount of his weight. Li-Am rolled his eyes and crossed the room to the pile of cushions on which Qui-Gon had been rather haphazardly tossed once freed from his bindings.

“Thanks,” the Jedi said as Li-Am propped him up against the wall.

“No problem. Hungry?” Qui-Gon shook his head and Li-Am flopped down next to him. “No, no I suppose you’re not. I know I wasn’t the first couple times he did that to me.” He sighed. “I did my best with your shoulders, Chirps. There was a lot of swelling and once I cut that rope loose you started fighting me, but hopefully your Master’ll be able to fix you right up.”

“My should—Oh. Oh, right,” Qui-Gon gave his friend a confused look before remembering struggling so hard he’d dislocated his shoulders. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I mean, I’ve broken my nose at least six times since leaving Coruscant…”

Li-Am chuckled and rolled his eyes. “You always were the clumsiest of us.”

 

It was another hour and a half before Qui-Gon felt stable enough to try to stand up, but even then the Force continued to feel strange and foreign to him. He didn’t like that feeling at all.  _Hopefully Master Dooku will be able to offer some manner of advice on what to do to fix this,_ he thought as Li-Am helped him along. He still felt horribly dizzy and like his arms and legs were full of sand.

When they reached the temporary quarters the Jedi had been occupying, Dooku was standing in the doorway waiting for them. He did not look pleased.

“And _where_ have you been? Anfernon came to me this morning and said that you behaved most unlike a Jedi before leaving him last night. Care to explain?”

“ _I_ acted unlike a Jedi? Master, if you’d only seen what he tried to do to me—ˮ

“I _don’t_ want to hear about what _he_ did, Qui-Gon.”

“Master Dooku, if I may,” Li-Am interjected, shifting Qui-Gon’s weight so he could support him a little better. “I discovered Anfernon forcing your Padawan Learner into a _very_ improper position last evening. I had come around to see if Anfernon required any further assistance this evening and I ended up saving Qui-Gon from what would have been a very painful and humiliating fate.”

Dooku cocked his head slightly to the side and raised one eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Master, he was attempting to… He was trying to _know_ me. Intimately.” Qui-Gon’s voice shook in spite of himself as he tried to explain. “He said he’s done it to many other Jedi. I tried so hard to get away from him, but he is very strong in the Force. He did something. I’m… I’m still not entirely in control of myself. If it wasn’t for Li-Am, I would… I would likely…” Qui-Gon shook his head and looked at his feet. _I’m sorry, Master. I tried to be a good Padawan and do as you told me, but…_

“Anfernon was attempting to… _know_ you. And I’m sure the next thing you’ll be telling me is that he threatened to kill you.”

Qui-Gon’s heart fell as his Master spoke.

“Please, Master, I swear, I went to leave once I had safely returned Anfernon to his ship, but he wouldn’t let me leave! He did something to manipulate me with the Force. I tried to do as you told me, honest I did!”

“Master Dooku, if you’ll allow it, I can pull up surveillance camera footage that will show you that we’re telling the truth,” said Li-Am. For a long moment, Dooku said nothing.

Then, he nodded.

“All right. I will humor you. Come and show me this surveillance footage that will corroborate your story.” They stepped inside and, after he helped Qui-Gon sit down, Li-Am got on the holonet and pulled up the footage he’d promised. Three camera angles showing Qui-Gon being stunned and dragged aboard the ship, Li-Am following shortly after, and both of them being stunned as they tried to leave. Dooku watched in stunned silence.

“I don’t have access to the cameras on Anfernon’s ship, but were I you, Master Dooku, I would believe your Padawan. I know what Anfernon is capable of. I know what he does to young men. Chir- Qui-Gon was very, very lucky that I happened along.” Li-Am narrowly avoided calling Qui-Gon by his nickname. The Knights and Masters weren’t fond of the nicknames that the younglings called one another and he knew it wouldn’t help Qui-Gon’s situation to call him that.

Dooku watched each video three times before turning his attention back to Li-Am and Qui-Gon. “I apologize, Qui. I didn’t think Anfernon was capable of such things, but apparently I was wrong. I will… I will take care of this. You are relieved from your duties for the remainder of our mission. I can’t in good conscience make you spend more time in close contact with him.”

Qui-Gon sighed, relieved, and nodded slightly. “Thank you, Master.” He glanced up at Li-Am, who looked similarly relieved.

“That is a very wise decision, Master Jedi. Anfernon is not… He… Qui-Gon would do well to stay as far away from him as possible for the rest of your time on Bandomeer. Anfernon was very, very angry with us when I stole him away. In fact, staying here might not even be that safe for him.”

Dooku was silent for a long moment before nodding slightly. “I believe you are right, Li-Am. Perhaps you ought to bring him back to your quarters. I can come and retrieve him when the mission is completed.”

“Anfernon _may_ think to look for him there, but I’ve many hiding places, Master. Don’t worry. I’ll keep him safe.” Li-Am put one of his hands protectively on Qui-Gon’s shoulder as he spoke as if to punctuate his words. Dooku did not look convinced of this plan, but he sighed and nodded.

“These talks can’t possibly last much longer,” he said. “I should think I will be coming to collect Qui-Gon from you within three days’ time.”

“I’ll keep him safe,” Li-Am repeated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is when the shit will really start to hit the fan for poor baby Qui-Gon. 
> 
> Fun bit of Pacifus trivia: Qui-Gon gets the nickname Chirps (overall) because when I used to RP as Qui-Gon, I would call him QuiQui on my RP blog a lot. One of my favorite RP partners alerted me that in her native language that translated to either “who-who” or also chirping like a bird.  
> We proceeded to call him Chirps for the majority of the rest of the time we RPed together. Just a bit of trivia and a nice memory that didn’t make me cry at all nope.  
> Tbh, I’ll probably say something similar if it actually comes up in the story. One of the Initiates he was friends with thought his nickname was similar to the word for chirping.


	4. Out of the Pan

_No. No, no, **no,** this can’t be happening! Not again, not-_ Qui-Gon Jinn fought against his restraints to the point that he felt almost as though he would rip his arms right out of their sockets, and yet he still found himself no closer to freeing himself. _Master! Master please, this- this isn’t funny anymore!_

Force, this _had_ to be a joke. A training exercise. It _had_ to be. Qui-Gon knew that it _wasn’t_ Anfernon this time. There wasn’t the same strange crushing presence in the Force. There wasn’t the same terrible _pain_. Still, he found himself bound tightly at the wrists, elbows, knees, and ankles in the dark. There was a strange metal collar around his neck. It pulsed gently against his skin. He didn’t know for sure what its purpose was, but he knew it probably wasn’t something good.

There was something in his mouth, forcing it open and making it impossible for him to make him to make anything more than awkward muffled grunts.

 _Master, please, I can’t- I don’t know what you want me to do!_ He tried desperately to send that thought across his bond with Master Dooku, but he couldn’t tell if his Master heard him. _Master, please…_

He’d been walking back from the mess with Li-Am when there’d been a horrible, blinding flash followed by the sting of a dart hitting his neck. The next thing he remembered was waking up in the darkness, bound and gagged and alone.

 _Think, Qui-Gon,_ he scolded himself. _Panicking will do you no good._

He did his best to relax his arms and legs and took as deep a breath as he could manage. Reaching out to the Force, he first tried to undo the bindings at his wrists and elbows. While he found he could touch and manipulate the bindings, he also found he was far too weak in the Force to untie himself. _Pfassk it all, Anfernon’s attack must still be wearing down on me._

He continued to struggle until he heard the distinct sound of fast-approaching footsteps. Qui-Gon froze, debating his next course of action. When the door hissed open, bathing him in bright white light from the corridor beyond, all he could manage to do was screw his eyes shut as tightly as he could, not used to the light.

“He is, I’m telling you he is a Jedi,” he heard a deep-voiced man say. “That braid means he’s a Jedi.”

“Some people wear that braid for style,” said a woman with a strange, reedy voice. Qui-Gon felt safer with the man who’d spoken first than with the woman. “I’ve seen plenty of random teenagers in the Outer Rim sporting that braid.

“No, Tak, that braid means he’s still learnin’ to be a Jedi. He’s not going to pay us as much for a child as he was going to for that Master…” said another man with a breathy, exasperated voice.

“As if we’re going to be able to capture a Master Jedi,” said the first man again. “We’ve got this one, let’s strip him and ready him for Lord Sidious. He’ll be at the rendezvous point by now and we don’t want to keep him waiting.”

 _Strip- what? No!_ Qui-Gon thought. He struggled as strong hands grabbed him by the shoulders and yanked him up to a sitting position. He felt the sharp tip of a knife press against his chest and he inhaled sharply, his eyes snapping open. The woman stood in front of him, raising an eyebrow as she studied his reaction.

Slowly, so slowly, she dragged the knife downward, slicing through the layers of tunics that he wore. She sawed through his belt and sliced down his sleeves, leaving him bare-chested in a room that he was quickly discovering was far colder than he found to be comfortable.

“Look at him, you _really_ think Sidious is going to pay us anything worthwhile for him? We ought to dress him up and sell him as a sex slave! For one so tall as him, look at how thin. Without the Force, he’s weak. He’ll be completely useless to Lord Sidious!” exclaimed the woman with a harsh laugh as she took in the sight of Qui-Gon’s body. “Look at how he shakes with fear! This is no Jedi, Tak. I can’t believe you’ve talked us into this. We’re wasting time and losing money!”

“You’re wrong. This boy is strong in the Force. Lord Sidious will be pleased that we managed to catch anyone associated with the Jedi at all,” said the one that was apparently called Tak.

“And you’re willing to be the one to tell him that we failed to retrieve the Jedi he wanted, then?” The woman gave him a questioning look before turning her attention back to Qui-Gon. He tried very hard not to show the fear he felt, but now that he was beginning to understand what was going on he couldn’t help it. For the first time in years, Qui-Gon found himself wanting desperately to cry.

But he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t show fear. Couldn’t show weakness. _Master Dooku will come for me. Master Dooku will save me. I just have to have faith and keep trying to contact him._

“Look at him, he’s shaking like a leaf. This is no Jedi. Jedi have no fear,” she purred as she stroked Qui-Gon’s cheek before squishing his cheeks between her thumb, forefinger and middle finger. “Look at you. You’re not a Jedi, are you? You’re such a baby-face you’re probably only like twelve. Did you idiots really kidnap a minor?”

Qui-Gon said nothing, or rather didn’t attempt to say anything. It didn’t really matter if he had something to say or not, after all, what with the gag still firmly in place in his mouth. He shied away from her hand, wishing he could just wriggle free of the restraints that bound him. He was bound too tightly, however. Every movement he made seemed to cause the bindings to shrink to hug his flesh even tighter than before. Despite his best efforts to stay quiet, a desperate wail tore itself from his chest as the woman ran her hand down along his chest and stomach. She still held the knife in her other hand and he didn’t trust that it wasn’t going to be buried in his chest before the end of all of this.

 _No_ , he told himself as he searched the woman’s eyes, trying to understand her motivation. _They need me alive. They’re clearly concerned about losing money, they’ll want to sell me and I’m worth more alive._

As more adrenaline pumped into his body as the woman dragged the knife along his bare chest and stomach, smiling a disturbing, fiendish smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, Qui-Gon found he was able to think a bit more clearly. It didn’t help, however, that his thoughts were painted with fear and panic.

The collar started to make more sense to him as he realized that he was thinking too clearly to still be feeling the effects of Anfernon’s weird attack. _It’s to cut me off from the Force!_ He realized in dismay. But that wasn’t exactly right. He could still feel the Force; he just couldn’t quite manipulate it. He felt very clumsy trying to reach out to it.

“Now, if I remove the gag, do you promise to be a good little boy? Or are you going to immediately start screaming and will I have to explain to Lord Sidious that his new slave is damaged because it refused to follow directions?” the woman asked, tapping her foot impatiently as she spoke. Qui-Gon did his best to look compliant; it wasn’t exactly as though he had any choice.

That devious grin widened near-unnaturally and Qui-Gon did his best not to cringe as she reached around behind his head and undid the bindings that held the gag in place. Slowly, torturously slowly, she removed the gag, popping the ball out of his mouth only after she had taken a good close look at his Padawan braid. Once the ball was out of his mouth, Qui-Gon immediately closed it, thankful for the ability to do so. So thankful, in fact, that he could completely ignore the sharp pain in his jaw and in his lips as he closed his mouth. He didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious, but from the pain he felt then he’d guess it’d been a good long while.

He was dreading how it would feel when finally he would be untied. He wouldn’t be able to use the Force to stabilize himself so long as he was stuck wearing the collar, and he could already tell that his legs were growing stiff.

“You’re gonna answer some questions for us, kid,” the woman continued after a moment. “Most importantly, settle our feud. Are you a Jedi or not?”

Qui-Gon debated not saying anything, but thought better of it. “I’m a Jedi Padawan,” he said, forcing his voice to stay level and even. “I’ve only been training with my Master for a few years.”

The woman’s eyes lit up at that information and she turned to look at Tak and the other man before turning her attention back to Qui-Gon. “I see. And… that would make you how old, exactly?”

“I’m…” He hesitated. “I’m sixteen.”

All three of his captors roared with laughter.

“A _child_! I pfassking told you, Tak! It’s a child!”

“But Sidious will still be pleased. He hasn’t gone that far in his training, Sidious can mold him as he likes,” Tak shot back. The woman brought the knife to rest just below Qui-Gon’s chin.

“You’ll make a good sex slave, boy,” she said after a long moment of ogling him. “If Sidious doesn’t want you, I may have to keep you for myself.” Qui-Gon said nothing, but looked her defiantly in the eye. “Tak. Nitro. Go make sure we’re on course for the rendezvous. We can’t keep Sidious waiting, can we?”


	5. Alone

_Sidious._ Qui-Gon didn’t like the sound of that name. _Lord Sidious._ It sounded like the names of those long-dead Sith that the younglings at the Temple told stories of in hushed whispers when the Masters weren’t paying _as_ close of attention. _What kind of man would want to buy a Jedi? Maybe he_ is _a Sith._

When the men had left Qui-Gon and the woman alone, she had finished stripping him down to the thin garment that covered his crotch. He could still feel her hands all over him now, hours later, as he sat alone in the dark once more.

He’d somehow managed to move himself from the bench on which he’d been lying before to the corner furthest from the door in the time he’d been left alone, and now he sat doubled over for warmth. Space was cold, far colder than Coruscant or Bandomeer, but most ships he’d been on had been warmer than this.

Then again, most of the ships he’d been on, he hadn’t been near naked for the majority of the time. He wished they wouldn’t have stripped him, though he suspected it was just another way to ensure that they had control over him at all times If he was too cold to fight back it would be less work for them, after all.

He shivered and he wasn’t entirely certain whether it was because he was cold or because he remembered what the woman had said to him. _I’d rather die than be a sex slave. Than be_ her _sex slave_ , he thought.

They hadn’t gagged him again before they’d left him alone. He was rather grateful for that, even if they hadn’t done it for his comfort. Nothing they did seemed to be for his comfort, not that he’d expect them to try to keep him comfortable. He was their captive, after all. They’d taken him from the life he’d known and intended to sell him to this Lord Sidious.

Or possibly the woman whose hands he could still feel running over his flesh.

He shivered again.

 _Master,_ he pushed the thought toward the Force-bond he shared with Master Dooku, although he was almost certain that it wouldn’t reach him. The collar would see to that. Given enough time and effort, he knew he could likely overcome the effects of the collar, but he would have been sold to someone long before that happened. And he was far too young and inexperienced to even know where to begin such an endeavor. _Master, please. Please come and find me. Help me. I don’t know how I’ll get out of this._

The door hissed open and the lights turned on all at once, causing Qui-Gon to flinch and screw his eyes shut. They opened again almost immediately, however, as he felt himself being lifted with the Force. He heard an unfamiliar, raspy chuckle.

“This is the boy you’ve brought for me?” a man croaked. Qui-Gon looked around the room before finally spotting a fairly short man wearing a black cloak with a hood that obscured most of his face. He was grinning, and something about the way he was grinning made Qui-Gon’s blood run cold. He was almost certain this was the man that was manipulating him with the Force. _Is this Lord Sidious?_

“Y- Yes, my Lord,” Tak whispered nervously. “He is not the Master we had hoped for, but he is a Jedi Padawan. Look at his braid. Look at the muscles. You can still feel how strong he is in the Force even with the collar, can you not?”

The man in the black cloak said nothing, but pulled Qui-Gon closer to him with the Force. Qui-Gon wanted desperately to fight back, but nothing he did was any help to him. The grin on the cloaked man’s face grew wider as Qui-Gon attempted to struggle, and he brought him close enough that their faces were only a breath away from one another. Even with the cloaked man so close to him, Qui-Gon couldn’t quite make out his face.

The cloaked man extended one pale hand and captured the young Jedi’s braid between his fingers. He rolled one of the beads back and forth between his forefinger and thumb for a long moment, his lips pursed as he thought.

“I will offer you half of the price I named when you first contacted me,” the cloaked man said as he turned his attention back to Qui-Gon’s abductors. “You said you could get me an adult. A fully trained Jedi, that’s what you promised me. This… While this boy may be of use to me one day, he’s useless to me now.”

“Half?” The man called Nitro balked at the very idea of being paid so little. Qui-Gon tried very hard not to react as the cloaked man gently stroked his cheek. The man’s hand was like ice. “My Lord, with all due respect, half is hardly worth the effort we put in just trying to capture this one.”

Qui-Gon hit the ground, hard, but was hardly aware of the pain that spiked through his body from the knee that took the majority of the impact. No, he was more concerned with the blue lightning that coursed from the cloaked man’s outstretched hand and into Nitro, who was now screaming in pain. Qui-Gon’s eyes widened to the point of near-pain as he watched Lord Sidious kill the one called Nitro. Tak and the woman watched on in bored silence.

When Nitro’s body finally fell to the floor in a burnt heap, the woman stepped forward.

“Half is a most generous offer, Lord Sidious. We would be happy with half of your previous offer, we would be happy with less. We simply wish to ensure your happiness.”

“The credits will be in your account by the time my ship has entered hyperspace. Load my new toy onto my ship that I may leave.”

“At once, Lord Sidious,” the woman replied as Tak stepped forward to force Qui-Gon to his feet. Qui-Gon fought weakly as he was dragged along. Tak paused briefly in front of the woman so she could ogle him one last time. She slapped the young Jedi’s ass as Tak started to drag him along again, causing him to wince noticeably. A low, ominous chuckle escaped Sidious’ throat at the reaction.

Qui-Gon struggled the entire way to Sidious’ ship, where he was unceremoniously deposited in the cargo hold. It was even colder there than it had been in the room in which he’d been kept by the bounty hunters. Tak said nothing as he left Qui-Gon alone in the cargo hold. Alone with his thoughts and the faint sensation of the Force, Qui-Gon had never felt more alone.

“At least I’ve got a light here,” he told himself, making sure to keep his voice no louder than a whisper. He knew that there were likely recording devices in the cargo hold, which held various crates and drums of no doubt incredibly expensive goods. Qui-Gon knew that slaves weren’t cheap, especially Force-sensitive ones.

Of course, the official stance of the Jedi was that slavery didn’t exist in the Republic, but Qui-Gon knew better. Dooku knew better as well, and had fostered Qui-Gon’s interest in helping those trapped into such a life by assigning him reports that had forced him to search out resources he never would have thought of before. Now, of course, Qui-Gon couldn’t remember much of what he’d learned when researching to report back to his Master, but the irony of his situation was certainly not lost on him.

He drew a shaky breath as he tried to curl into himself further. He wished desperately that he could move his arms. He couldn’t even feel his hands anymore. _I will not cry_ , he told himself. Another shaky breath. _I will_ not _cry._


	6. Confess Your Sins to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so, apparently I’ve not been quite clear enough (again, as per usual) regarding how my timeline’s going here. (As evidenced by a review on ffnet, pm on ffnet, couple of inquisitive messages on tumblr…) Qui-Gon’s capture is (very briefly) touched on in chapter four in paragraph five. It’s told from Qui-Gon’s pov and literally only the moment of something happening is mentioned, but more will be told later in flashbacks.   
> To be honest, I just didn’t want to end up devoting probably 5+ more chapters to the lead up to him being caught. He’s aging upwards of 35 years across this fic and he’s still friggin 16 in chapter six. This is going to be a very long fic to begin with (mostly because me + pacing + reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally long stories = wtf is pacing? (evidenced heavily in the first attempt I made at the fic I’m still attempting to write, Something To Sing About, for Phantom of the Opera) and if I allowed myself to just keep walking Qui-Gon through the day to day happenings when the shit HASN’T hit the fan yet it would’ve been chapter 30 EASILY before we would’ve gotten to any action whatsoever outside of that wtfery with Anferon.   
> A fair amount of what happens to lil’ baby QuiQui is going to be glossed over or told in flashbacks. S’just how I roll, yo. All will be revealed in time.

Somehow, Qui-Gon managed to fall asleep in the time between when he was tossed in the cargo hold and when his new “owner” came to look him over more thoroughly. Qui-Gon woke to the sensation of his arms being freed from their bindings, and he instantly froze. He wanted to try to get away, but he’d seen what Sidious had done to Nitro on that other ship.

He heard Sidious chuckle as the bindings on his legs loosened and then fell away. “You’ll want to move fairly slowly, although I’m sure that’s something of which you’re already well aware, my young friend.” More laughter, louder and more persistent. “By all means, continue to sit that way, you look utterly ridiculous. But I’ve brought you some clothing. It’s probably not what you’re used to, little Jedi, but I can assure you it will keep you warmer than those thin little briefs you’re currently wearing.”

Qui-Gon blinked hard at Sidious’ words. _Little Jedi? Who is he calling little?_ Still, there was something strangely soothing about how the man spoke, even if his words were harsh and his demeanor was such that he killed for no reason other than having heard a complaint. Slowly, _painfully_ slowly, Qui-Gon moved his arms from behind his back. His joints popped loudly and searing pain shot from his shoulders down to his fingertips and in to his chest. Sidious simply continued to laugh.

He didn’t know how long it took him to push himself to his knees, but it was at that point that Sidious’ patience with him ran thin and the clothing that had been brought for him was tossed roughly in his face. Qui-Gon hurried to gather it in his arms, savoring the warmth from having been held near Sidious’ body. It was only then that he noticed that how hard he was shivering. He’d known he’d been shivering, even before he’d fallen asleep.

He hadn’t exactly expected to wake up.

Trying to put on the clothing he’d been given was difficult. His fingers were still numb and wouldn’t cooperate with how he wanted them to work. After multiple unsuccessful attempts to secure the belt around the floor-length robe-like tunic he’d been given on his own, he cringed and swallowed hard.

“Um… my- my-ˮ Qui-Gon exhaled hard and closed his eyes. Speaking to government officials was something Qui-Gon could do in his sleep. Asking a favor from a Sith Lord, on the other hand… He took a deep, shaky breath and opened his eyes to find Sidious simply waiting for him to continue speaking. “My L- Lord, I know it’s foolish to ask for anything from a person who has apparently just purchased me as a slave, but… I can’t- My fingers won’t work. Please help me with the belt?”

For a long moment, Sidious didn’t react. Qui-Gon felt a pit of fear growing in his stomach, remembering the way Nitro had hit the floor, his skin charred and his eyes wide and full of surprise and very, very dead. But he forced that fear away. _He wouldn’t kill me immediately after paying what was probably quite a lot of credits for me,_ he told himself.

It didn’t really help, but it was the best he could do.

After a painfully long moment, Sidious beckoned him forward and carefully helped him with the belt. Qui-Gon tried, but failed, to hide his surprise at how gentle the man was being with him.

“You don’t fear me.” Qui-Gon jumped nearly half a meter when Sidious spoke again, his fingers lingering between the belt buckle and Qui-Gon’s stomach. The man chuckled again.

“Fear isn’t going to do me any good,” Qui-Gon replied once he was sure he could speak without his voice shaking. His voice still faltered, but he managed to disguise quite how bad he wanted to run away. “It’s not the Jedi way to fear. We let our fear h- hit us and wash over us and we push through it.”

Sidious’ laughter grew louder as the young Jedi spoke. “Tell me, how is that working for you now, young Jedi? Are you finding it easy to push through your fear now?”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s easy,” Qui-Gon replied, his voice wavering. “It is what a Jedi does.”

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Qui-Gon watched what little of Sidious’ face he was able to see, but it didn’t change from the mild, bemused upward curl of his lips. Though he remained calm and collected on the surface, Qui-Gon couldn’t conceal the way his heart was threatening to pound out of his chest. There was easily enough adrenaline in his system for him to lift a starship with little to no issue, but Sidious was wrong. Qui-Gon _was_ afraid of him. Terrified, actually. He wanted to run.

But where could he go? There was nowhere for him to go. They were in space. He could hear the ship’s hyperdrive running. Save for running straight out of an airlock, there was nowhere for him to go. He felt like a caged animal.

“You’re not what I intended to purchase, my young friend,” Sidious said after a few moments. “Come, walk with me. I imagine you’re starving after all that time unconscious and tied up.”

Sidious turned and headed for the door, pausing briefly to wait as Qui-Gon willed his legs to work. It was simply in his best interest to go along with what his new “owner” wanted.

“You were aiming for my Master,” he said as he fell into stride beside Sidious, despite his best efforts to fall into his preferred place, slightly behind and to the right. That is where he walked with his Master, that is where he was comfortable. Sidious, for whatever manipulative reason, was treating him like an equal, at least in this. He knew that he _wasn’t_ the Sith’s equal, however. He was the Sith’s property, if anything. He could never be considered his equal.

 _Keep your wits about you and keep your head down, Qui-Gon,_ he told himself.

“Observant,” Sidious said. Qui-Gon could almost hear his eyebrow raise. Qui-Gon kept his gaze straight ahead. “Yes, I wanted an adult. A Master, if that’s what my hunters could manage. Clearly they’re far more inept than I imagined, but given enough time, you’ll serve my purpose just fine, my young friend.”

“I will not serve you,” Qui-Gon replied. It was such a quick, natural reply that he didn’t have time to stop himself. His eyes widened and his steps faltered when he realized what he’d said, but Sidious’ only response was to laugh.

“That remains to be seen, my young friend.” Sidious paused, turning to look at the young man who walked beside him. “What is your name?” he asked.

Qui-Gon shot him a confused look. It wasn’t a question he’d been expecting. Why would his captors want his name, after all? And what would the name of a slave matter to its master?

“You have a name, don’t you?” Sidious prompted, amused, after a few silent moments. Qui-Gon realized that they’d been walking for far longer than he’d expected. This Sith clearly had quite the ship.

“Qui-Gon,” he said finally. “Qui-Gon Jinn.”

“Qui-Gon,” Sidious repeated. Qui-Gon tried not to cringe. His name sounded _horrible_ coming from the mouth of the Sith. “It is nice to meet you, Qui-Gon. I have the feeling we will be very close friends.”

 _I doubt that,_ Qui-Gon thought, though this time he was smart enough not to voice his opinion.

Finally, they made it to a room that was dimly lit and held a single long, ornately-carved table flanked by two incredibly plush-looking chairs on either end. Sidious gestured to one of the chairs before moving to sit on the opposite end of the table. Qui-Gon didn’t even hesitate. His legs were screaming at him, even after just a few minutes of walking. He’d never been restrained for quite as long as he just had and his body wasn’t used to it, nor was it used to moving again.

The second Sidious was seated; a pair of young men came from a brightly-lit doorway carrying sleek metal trays that were simply overflowing with food. Qui-Gon’s stomach growled at the sight of food. The young men placed the plates of food in front of Sidious and Qui-Gon quickly and gracefully before disappearing through that same door just as fast as they’d appeared, leaving them alone.

He turned his attention back to Sidious, who seemed to be watching carefully to see how he would react. Qui-Gon folded his hands in his lap and waited for some indication that he was allowed to eat. More importantly, he waited for some indication that the food wasn’t drugged or poisoned. Sidious, in turn, waited and watched to see just what Qui-Gon would do.

They sat in silence for many minutes before Sidious finally gestured to the spread of food that very nearly completely covered the table. “Is none of this to your liking, Qui-Gon?” he asked, a humorous tone to his voice. “Or is it that you aren’t hungry as of yet? I’m certain we can find plenty of activities that might help you work up an appetite.”

“How do I know you’re not trying to drug me?” Qui-Gon asked. The smirk on Sidious’ face grew to a wide, devious grin.

“My dear little Jedi, you’ve already seen what I can do. Do you honestly believe I would have to resort to drugging you by way of food if I wanted to have my way with you?”

There was something about how utterly nonchalant Sidious was about the words he spoke that caused that terrible fear to rise within him again. Still, he found the words strangely comforting. Clearly Sidious had meant it as a show of power. _I don’t need to poison you; you’ve seen what I can do with the Dark Side…_

Qui-Gon sighed. “Just because it’s not something you _must_ do does not mean it’s something you _wouldn’t_ do.” He was tired and sore and admittedly quite hungry and he didn’t want to play games any longer. Certainly Sidious wouldn’t try to poison him and kill him outright, but why try to force someone who’s unwilling to do something when you can simply drug them and get what you want?

Sidious’ grin grew even wider and more inhuman looking, and he casually poured himself a glass of a thick, red liquor using the Force. He called the glass to his hand and took a long, slow sip. Qui-Gon stayed still, looking down at his hands as he waited for the Sith to say something more.

“It’s not really as though you have much choice, my young friend. You may either dine with me or you may starve.” Sidious’ tone was jovial as he spoke, pausing briefly between sentences to sip more of his wine. “You haven’t a third option, Qui-Gon.”

Slowly, Qui-Gon reached out and began to fill the empty plate that lay in front of him. He did not take as much food as he would normally, but he made sure to take enough to fill his stomach. Although he still could not quite make out most of Sidious’ face, he could feel him watching him.

It was only once Qui-Gon had filled his plate that Sidious beckoned another servant forward to serve him his food. This one was another young boy, possibly two or three years younger even than Qui-Gon. He was nearly nude, save for the golden jewelry that adorned his neck, arms, and waist. There was also a length of cloth fastened loosely around his hips that fell to just above his knees. It didn’t seem like it would stay up on his hips very well. Qui-Gon found himself pitying the boy, even though he was almost certain that his lot in life would end up being far worse than the other boy’s.

Assuming he didn’t manage to escape, at least. Until he figured out exactly how to get the collar off, he knew he was pretty much stuck. Without the Force he knew he could survive on his own on most planets, but Sidious had already proven himself to be quite powerful. It likely wouldn’t take him much to find Qui-Gon even if he _did_ manage to escape. For now, as much as he hated the very idea, he knew that he was stuck with Sidious.

They ate in silence, Sidious watching Qui-Gon who was paying incredibly close attention to the food he was shoveling into his mouth. When they were finished with their meal, Sidious motioned for Qui-Gon to follow him.

He led Qui-Gon back toward the cargo hold and in spite of himself Qui-Gon felt dread rising within him. The cargo hold had been _so_ cold. Now that he was actively trying to digest food he knew it would feel even colder to him.

But no. Sidious didn’t lead him to the cargo hold. Instead, Sidious led him into a beautifully appointed bedroom with a large, plush bed. Qui-Gon’s blood ran cold as visions of Anfernon danced in his head and his meal danced in his stomach, threatening to lurch up toward the back of his throat. Sidious placed one of his icy cold hands on Qui-Gon’s shoulder, gently leading him further into the room.

“I can’t bring you back to Coruscant, of course,” he explained as he led Qui-Gon over to the bed. “So we’ll be travelling for a few days before we reach our final destination. I am not one to travel with companions, so you will be sharing my quarters with me.”

Qui-Gon said nothing, simply nodded as Sidious spoke. His mind was racing as he tried to think of a way he could escape. Short of simply trying to run, he couldn’t think of anything that might actually work. And even if he managed to get out of the room, they were in _space_. Where the pfassk could he really go? Sidious most certainly knew the ship better than he did, and Sidious had access to the Force. Qui-Gon still couldn’t properly manipulate it, much less use it to help his situation.

“Have a seat, Qui-Gon.”

He did as he was told and sat down on the edge of the bed. Sidious sat down next to him, leaving a small amount of space between them. It almost seemed like that space was left purely for Qui-Gon’s own comfort, and for that he was incredibly grateful. Finally, that cold hand moved from the young man’s shoulder, instead resting two knuckles against his cheek as Sidious once again toyed with the braid that hung behind his ear.

“You can’t possibly have been training with your Master for very long,” he said after a few moments, lazily rolling the beads that adorned the braid between his fingers. “These beads are too generic and you’re far too young to have specialized in lightsaber techniques.”

“I’m not so young,” Qui-Gon replied. He immediately regretted his words. _That will really keep him out of your pants, Qui-Gon,_ he scolded himself with a sigh. Sidious smirked.

“Oh? You can’t possibly be older than seventeen. That would put you at having a maximum of five years with a Master—and that’s only if you were chosen young.” Qui-Gon said nothing in reply, and Sidious continued. “You’re shaking like a leaf. An older Padawan would at least _try_ to hide his fear, having realized how hopeless their situation is.”

“We aren’t a hive mind. Not all of us are as good or as practiced at hiding our emotions.”

Sidious grinned. “Because you haven’t had enough practice yet.”

Qui-Gon didn’t like the way he said that. It definitely sounded like he meant that the young Jedi hadn’t had enough practice doing something far more sinister than hiding his emotions. He had a feeling that, if he didn’t manage to escape and escape _soon_ , he’d have far more practice than anyone ever should.

“My Master is teaching me more important things first,” he said after a moment. “It is not indicative of my age.”

“Your fear itself is indicative of your age. You’ve heard stories, haven’t you? Tales told to warn you away from the Dark Side. Tales of people like me…”

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. “Sith stories are common amongst younglings. We know they’re exaggerated in order to scare us off the Dark Side. It doesn’t take an adult to see the stupidity in believing everything we’re told about the Dark Side.”

Sidious pulled Qui-Gon’s braid taut, causing him a brief moment of sharp pain as his hair was pulled, before yanking it hard enough to pull Qui-Gon’s head closer to him. He leaned in so his lips were very nearly touching the young man’s ear. “How do you know the stories have been exaggerated if you’ve never met a Sith?”


	7. Strangely Seductive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah no I’m fully aware that my Sidious headcanons are weird and probably all directly challenge canon. I also DO NOT CARE. Pacifus isn’t canon. Nothing about this is canon except maybe for Dooku/QuiQui’s ages. S’it. S’all.   
> Also I’m EXTREMELY high writing this shit. Take that information as you will.

Qui-Gon pulled away and stared at Sidious, incredulous, as he continued. “The Jedi Order’s official stance is that the Sith are extinct, is it not?” The Sith Lord was determined not to give the little Jedi even a breath of space, immediately dragging him forward with the Force. Qui-Gon could almost make out the man’s features as he was pulled closer and closer, until their noses were nearly touching.

He knew that Sidious had spoken, that he had asked him a question, but he couldn’t find his voice to respond. He couldn’t remember how to form words. _Fear_ didn’t quite cover the depth of the terror that he felt in that moment, utterly helpless against his captor’s will. Without the ability to access the Force himself, Qui-Gon couldn’t properly fight back. He had no defense but to struggle physically, and that would do him no good against someone so strong in the Force as Sidious.

“Well?” Sidious asked, his lips curling in an amused grin as he pressed a bony white hand against the young man’s cheek, holding him in place with the Force. Now that he was almost able to make out the man’s face, the teenager was certain that Sidious couldn’t possibly be more than fifteen years older than him. So how did he already feel like a long-dead corpse?

Qui-Gon managed a weak nod in response, swallowing hard as Sidious’ hand trailed down to his neck. He squeezed, gently at first, as Qui-Gon began to struggle. The metal collar around his neck bent and shifted with the pressure, as though it was more made from fabric than from durasteel. The harder the boy struggled, however, the tighter Sidious squeezed, until Qui-Gon was barely drawing air into his lungs with each desperate wheeze. Only when his body began to sag against Sidious’ grasp did he let go. Qui-Gon fell across the mattress, coughing and wheezing as his lungs fought desperately for air.

Sidious laughed as he sat and watched the young man struggle for breath. “I’m going to enjoy owning you, Qui-Gon.”

“N- No one owns me,” Qui-Gon growled in response, though he sounded about as terrifying as the frightened, breathless child he was. “I’m a person, not a piece of property.”

“To one such as myself, those two are not mutually exclusive states of being,” Sidious replied with a chuckle as he crawled across the bed, straddling Qui-Gon as he reached out with the Force to immobilize the boy’s hands once more. The terror radiating off of the young Jedi was positively _delicious._ “I paid a tidy sum for you, therefore you are mine. So long as you wear that collar, you are my slave, my young friend, and I intend to use you as such.”

“You cannot keep me prisoner this way forever! My Master will be searching for me!” Qui-Gon’s voice cracked and broke as he spoke, craning his neck in a desperate effort to get away from Sidious.

The man cackled. “You really think your Master is any match for a Dark Lord of the Sith?”

“The Sith are no match for the Jedi,” Qui-Gon said, daring to look his new Master in the eye. His defiance earned him the oppressive, corpse-like dead weight of Sidious lying across him. For the first time, he could truly see Sidious’ face. The man was perhaps twenty-five, perhaps even a year or two older as Master Dooku was. He was extremely pale and his skin seemed clammy. As the teenager took in the sight of the Sith Lord’s face, the Sith set to disrobing him with the Force.

Qui-Gon didn’t notice until he realized that his chest was bare, and he didn’t realize _that_ until he realized that he could feel Sidious’ breath and the shifting of his robes against his skin. Visions of Anfernon danced in his head, and he knew that this time there would be no sudden rescue by a dear old friend. He was helpless to the will of the Sith Lord. He tried his best not to fight, remembering how tightly Sidious had gripped his throat when he’d struggled just moments before.

 _Master Dooku will be coming for me,_ he told himself as he felt one of Sidious’ hands begin to trail down his chest. _Master Dooku will save me. This will not last forever. I am not a slave. I am a Jedi._ The Sith Lord’s fingers were like ice, but the places that his fingertips touched burned hotter than the blade of a training saber. Qui-Gon hated the feeling. He wanted nothing more than to get away, to cower in a corner, to live in his fear. But he knew that he could not do that. If he gave in to his fear and truly began to struggle, Sidious would win. He couldn’t win. Not this night.

Qui-Gon steeled himself as Sidious’ hand moved lower, fingertips caressing the outline of hard abdominal muscles that shivered at the touch. He could feel his body beginning to react to the soft touches and the strange burning sensation they left. It was a reaction his body often had when he woke and when he was particularly excited. And when the color blue crossed his mind.

And when he thought about cheese.

Suffice it to say Qui-Gon was a teenage boy and his body hadn’t quite figured out what exactly would count as particularly exciting yet. As a Jedi, he hadn’t given much thought to figuring that out. His body reacting that particular way to the touch of another male was genuinely shocking to him. He’d developed a bit of a crush as of late on another Padawan, but she was a female. He’d assumed that to be fairly normal among those who weren’t sworn to a life of celibacy.

Something about this, however exciting his body might have found it, felt incredibly wrong to Qui-Gon though. He felt trapped. Helpless. Beyond that, he knew that the Jedi Code forbid anything of this nature between a Jedi and anyone else.

He had to get away. But how?

Sidious seemed to have noticed the way Qui-Gon’s body was reacting as well, as his movements became more deliberate. “You will come to depend on me completely, Qui-Gon. Just you wait.” Qui-Gon tried his best to keep his body from betraying him this way.

“I would rather die than depend on you for anything.” Qui-Gon’s voice wavered and fell to barely a whisper as he spoke. Sidious’ fingers trailed further down, finding sharp hip bones jutting up on either side of smooth muscle that gave way to downy curls between the young man’s legs. “Don’t!” hissed the young man as those cold, creeping fingers stroked that hair, continuing to work their way downward until they encountered a lump of half-engorged flesh pressed firmly between Sidious’ body and his own.

“Don’t?” Sidious’ tone was questioning as his fingers halted their movements, granting Qui-Gon a brief reprieve from the strange, tumultuous sea of emotions and sensations he was feeling. “My dear boy, you haven’t any choice in the matter. If I should like to touch my new slave, to _pleasure_ my new slave… I will.”

“I am not your sl- slave.” His voice was cracking more than Qui-Gon could even hope to begin to control as he felt a strange, imposing darkness enveloping him, pushing him deeper into the mattress. He wanted nothing to do with any “pleasure” this Sith could grant him. Struggling against the oppressive weight of the Force weighing down on him, Qui-Gon realized just how wrong his words were.

He didn’t want to believe it, but Sidious was right. He _was_ the Sith’s slave. Until his Master came to save him— and he was certain that his Master would come to save him— he would be at the mercy of the Sith.

As Sidious’ hand began its slow, teasing descent anew, Qui-Gon drew in a shaky, terrified breath. “Pl- Please.” He cringed at how small and frightened he sounded. “Please don’t—ˮ

Before he could finish his request, Sidious had wrapped his fingers loosely around the young man’s half-hardened member and was beginning to slowly stroke it, causing him to gasp and flinch. His hand seemed to have warmed slightly, having rested against Qui-Gon’s near-fevered skin for so long now, but it still felt foreign and corpse-like as it caressed the young man’s organ.

“It isn’t often that I deign to be so kind to my slaves, my little friend, so you ought to enjoy yourself while you can,” Sidious murmured as he slowly worked the young man to his full length. “Although with you I may have to make an exception. It would be quite the waste to not take advantage of such girth.” The Sith wore an amused smirk upon his lips and his voice bore no small amount of shock at the size of the teenager’s cock. He continued to

When Qui-Gon did not reply except to close his eyes and turn his head away from Sidious, he continued. “You should count yourself lucky, little Jedi. Many in your ranks find themselves being violated well before they reach Knighthood. At least you’ve a Master who is willing to be gentle and who will take care of you.”

“I d- I don’t want this. Pl- Please.” Qui-Gon spoke slowly, fighting to keep his voice as steady as possible but he was shaking like a leaf. His cock bobbed with each stroke; its head hitting him in the stomach before bouncing skyward where it would rub against Sidious’ silken robes, and each stroke made it harder for the boy to keep his wits about him.

“Your body is telling a far different story from the words coming out of your mouth, Qui-Gon,” Sidious purred before pressing cold, dry lips to the teenager’s neck. This, combined with the slow, deliberate pace of his hand, elicited a low moan from the teenager, much to Sidious’ delight. “Let go of your inhibitions, my young friend. It’ll make all of this far easier. There’ll be no room in your life for shame or inhibitions, especially regarding sex, from now on. Let go.”

“Pl- Please—ˮ Qui-Gon began to struggle despite his best efforts to simply keep still. He was fighting as hard as he could to think about anything but how strangely wonderful the Sith’s hand felt against his skin and that was hard enough if he wasn’t trying to speak. “I- My Lord, _please_ …”

Even struggling as hard as he could, Qui-Gon was hardly able to even shift beneath Sidious. The Sith Lord cackled as he continued to work his hand along the younger man’s shaft. “Please what? You’re asking so sweetly, I hardly feel I should deny you…”

“St- St—ˮ But Qui-Gon couldn’t get the word out. Before he could manage to stammer out his request, he felt that strange, almost-pleasant build up that had been happening since the moment Sidious had started to trail his fingers down his chest grow to an incredible sensation he couldn’t ignore. His vision went temporarily blurry as he felt a strange, wonderful, _horrible_ release. His hips bucked involuntarily and a long, low moan escaped his throat as he experienced his first waking orgasm.

As he came down from the strange, almost-blissful high, he felt his hands being moved by the not-so-gentle persuasion of the Force. As he found the strength to try to struggle again, he realized that Sidious’ grip on him was just as imposing if not more so now as it had ever been.

“Oh come now, Qui-Gon. Certainly you don’t think that I’m going to get you off and then let you go? I want to see how good you are with those hands. And with that mouth.”


	8. A Glimmer of Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is probably the one that cemented my spot in hell when I die...

Qui-Gon didn’t know what planet he was on, not that it really mattered. He hadn’t so much as glimpsed a viewport in over five days, and the Sith’s comm units were all so heavily encrypted that Qui-Gon couldn’t even figure out how to turn on the holonet, much less send out a distress signal.

It hadn’t even occurred to him that two weeks had passed until he awoke to another instance of Sidious being “generous.” He’d explained after bringing the teenager quite roughly to completion that he was to consider it a birthday gift. He’d done a bit of research and found out Qui-Gon’s birthday.

A hole sighed open in Qui-Gon’s chest that morning, as he lay in bed attempting to slow his heartrate after his latest violation. It eclipsed the despair he felt, the longing for his Master. He was seventeen now. He should be at the Temple, meditating on this important step forward in his life. One year closer to adulthood. One year closer to when he would finally face the Trials and (hopefully) become a Jedi Knight.

Instead, at seventeen years old Qui-Gon Jinn found himself a glorified sex doll. When he wasn’t being forced to please the Sith with his hands or his mouth, he was being forced to clean the Sith’s home, or to lay beside the Sith as he read or napped. Every moment of every day was carefully constructed to keep him from having more than a few seconds alone. At least, that’s how it felt to Qui-Gon.

“You’ll want to eat,” Sidious called after what had to have been at least ten minutes. “You’ve a big day ahead of you, my young friend.” It felt to Qui-Gon as though he’d woken from a strange, empty trance just then, and he scrambled to bathe and clothe himself before hurrying out to the main room, where Sidious was lounging and reading something on a datapad.

The room was decorated in dark reds and oranges, and for once Qui-Gon was made aware of the large viewports that lined the far wall. Beyond the viewports, he could see lush green foliage and warm yellow sunlight. That hole in his chest opened further. The dull pain of it became such that he could no longer successfully ignore it. He felt like crying and he wasn’t entirely certain why. Coruscant was certainly not the lush green planet that lay beyond the Sith’s flat. Nothing about what he was seeing reminded him of his past.

Perhaps that was the problem.

As he stood transfixed by the natural beauty beyond the viewport, the smell of melted cheese and some manner of eggs cooked in grease hit his nose. He found himself torn between the pain he felt at the hopelessness and loneliness of his situation and the way his stomach growled at the smell of the food. _Cheese_ , he thought with a slight, sad sigh. He knew it was likely a trick. He hadn’t eaten as well as that first day as Sidious’ plaything since, and he certainly didn’t expect that to change now.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting to find out here,” Sidious called after a moment, without looking up from his datapad. “Your breakfast is in on the table. It’s probably gone cold by now.” He sounded utterly disinterested, but that didn’t shock Qui-Gon. That was how Sidious sounded to him most often. When he wasn’t forcing him to perform lewd acts. Disinterested.

Bored.

Qui-Gon nodded and hurried into the dining room, stopping about a meter from the table, staring in shock at the food waiting for him there.

Not only were there the eggs and cheese he smelled, but also bread with honey and bantha butter and a strange, sweet-smelling sausage that had Qui-Gon drooling. He took a step forward before reminding himself that Sidious wasn’t the kind to be, well, _kind_.

His stomach growled as he considered his options. _Perhaps it’s because of my birthday?_

“This is for me?” he asked, thankful that his voice did not waver for once. “All of it?”

“Is your birthday breakfast not up to your liking, Qui-Gon?” Sidious’ tone was one of annoyance, not of genuine curiosity. The young Jedi shook his head as though the Sith could see him.

“That—I’m sorry, my Lord,” he replied quickly. “I just… I wanted to make certain that I wasn’t about to displease you.” He cringed at how eager to please he sounded. In his time with the Sith Lord so far he had been able to avoid any seriously painful discipline, and the Sith hadn’t been _too_ cruel, only choking him and forcing him to perform those horrible acts…

“I can’t very well starve you on your birthday, Qui-Gon,” came Sidious’ disinterested response. “Now hurry and eat. We’ll be leaving soon.”

Qui-Gon sat down then and began eating, knowing it was better to simply do as he was told than to try questioning the Sith any further. When he’d eaten his fill, he stuffed two more small pieces of sausage and the last of the bread into his gut. The last few meals he’d gotten had left him hungry even once he was finished, so he knew it would be smarter to overstuff himself than to only eat his fill.

Once he stood up, a pair of young boys clad similarly to the boy that had served Sidious that first night came out of the kitchen to clear away his plates. As Qui-Gon headed back into the main room, he glanced over his shoulder to see the boys greedily eating the scraps left on his plate and the last few pieces of sausage. He found himself wondering how often it was they were given food. They were pretty scrawny and were eating like the food would be taken away from them quickly if they didn’t.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to feel sorry for them. Not given his own situation.

Sidious was still reading his datapad when Qui-Gon walked back over to him. He gestured with one hand for Qui-Gon to sit, and the teenager quickly complied. Sidious absently stroked Qui-Gon’s head and back, petting his hair and smoothing his robes against the teen’s back. Before too long, however, his fingers came to rest on the metal collar secured snugly around the boy’s throat. Qui-Gon tried to ignore the strange static electricity that seemed to pass through the collar at the Sith’s touch.

After a few long minutes, Sidious finally finished reading whatever it was that had held his attention and set the datapad down. “I trust you ate your fill and that your breakfast was satisfactory?” Qui-Gon nodded and the Sith grinned. “Good.”

Sidious stood then, and Qui-Gon followed suit. “We’ll be off then.”

“Where are we going?” The teenager couldn’t keep from asking any longer. The question had been burning at the forefront of his thoughts all through his silent breakfast. At first, Sidious didn’t reply but merely led Qui-Gon out of the flat and down a long, dimly-lit hallway to a landing pad. As they approached his ship, he slowed just a beat.

“We’ll be spending a few days on my home planet, Naboo, while I conduct some business,” he replied. Qui-Gon cocked his head slightly as he tried to remember anything about Naboo. It wasn’t very close to the Core and so the senate and by extension the Jedi didn’t seem to care too much about it…

…But there _was_ currently a Jedi presence on Naboo, in the capitol city of Theed. Two Knights and a Padawan were there to ensure that the current elections went smoothly, as there had been a rather nasty smear campaign being waged against someone who actually wanted to enact positive change.

 _If I can somehow manage to get their attention…_ The gears in Qui-Gon’s head started turning before his boots hit the ramp up into the ship. He didn’t know where he was now, so he didn’t know how long to expect this flight to be, but he fully intended to use every second he had to plan his escape.

As with the last time he’d traveled with the Sith, there were plenty of servants—or more likely, slaves—already aboard and Qui-Gon was quickly shuffled back to the Sith’s quarters. He expected that he would remain there until it was mealtime again, assuming Sidious planned to feed him again that day.

It was about the time that he sat down at the edge of the bed where Sidious had first assaulted him that he realized that he didn’t feel very well. His hands and feet felt like they weren’t there and his knees felt like they were made of jelly. _What the— **no**_ **.**

He realized, as the room began to spin around him, what had happened.

Sidious hadn’t eaten with him. Had questioned him about whether he’d eaten. Had deliberately delayed their departure…

He fought it as hard as he could, but the longer he sat there the worse the dizziness got. As the ship lifted off, he tried to stand up. The last thing he saw was the plush, blood red carpet flying up to greet him.

 

The darkness was cold and deep, but the moments when Qui-Gon briefly neared consciousness were far more painful and terrifying than anything else he’d experienced so far in life. He couldn’t open his eyes, but what he could feel and what he could hear was more than enough to scar him for life.

He felt cold and his limbs felt as though they were filled with sand. His neck was being held at an odd angle, the left side of his face against the floor and his head pulled back so far that it was painful. His ass was up in the air, his knees underneath him and pressed painfully into his chest.

But none of that was the pain that nearly brought him fully back to consciousness each time that pitch-black darkness began to yield. That pain was much deeper and harder for him to pinpoint. He’d never felt a pain quite like it.

He wanted nothing more than he wanted for it to stop.

_Please—Oh Force, make it stop—_

But it didn’t. It wouldn’t, not for what seemed like an eternity.


End file.
